The Taste of Emptiness
by The Cake Genius
Summary: Rose learned long ago that when Kanaya can't bear to speak, she expresses herself in her designs. Kanaya hasn't spoken to her in days.


**Disclaimer: I do not own Homestuck or anything else mentioned, and I do not profit from writing this fanfiction, even though I wish I did.**

**A/N: I was planning on writing fluffy RoseMary, but... um. No.**

* * *

The strings of the fabric cut tightly into Rose's sides, and she gasps. Kanaya's hands flit over her back, pulling closed the buttons with practiced expertise. The blonde swallows... sighs. She looks into the mirror, into eyes that she no longer fully recognizes as her own. She has grown apart from herself these days as one grows apart from a childhood friend. She examines herself closely, because she learned long ago that when Kanaya can't bear to speak, she expresses herself in her designs.

Kanaya hadn't spoken to her in days.

* * *

The first dress Rose had received was a pleasant surprise, given to her a week after she had kissed Kanya for the first time. It was fumbled over by one very flustered troll girl with emerald-tinted cheeks. Layers of light, golden fabric had slid into her hand like water before she could register what was happening.

"I made it for you."

"Oh..." Rose broke into a grin then, and placed he hand on the other's cheek. "Thank you, Kanaya."

She had smiled back nervously, and then confidently, steadily. They learned how to smile at each other like babies learned how to walk.

Rose had changed, and when she showed Kanaya, the troll crossed her arms and practically glowed with pride. "Oh, that's the one," she affirmed.

The fabric was smooth against Rose's legs, and when she twirled, she almost imagined wind flowing through her. Her hands caught the light above her head, breaking it into fractures, and she laughed for the first time in what felt like years- what felt like being born again.

The dress was the same color of the champagne she drank that night, the bubbles that singing in her mouth. She wanted to feel this way forever: as if a giant balloon was filling her up, making her feel like nothing had ever been wrong with her, and nothing ever would be.

* * *

The second dress Kanaya made was the deepest, darkest, bloodiest red that Rose had ever seen. It draped over her frame, contrasting with her pale skin. It was tailored amazingly, and for the enth time, Rose was forced to admire Kanaya's skill. She turned herself in front of her mirror. It was strange- she had never seen herself as someone who cared about looks, or had the desire to be attractive, but... she had to admit, what with the way the dress embraced her form and showed measuremeasureprecise _slivers_ of her legs, she looked, for the first time, _sexy_.

She tucked her hair behind her ear. Huh.

When Kanaya finally saw her in the creation, she covered her mouth and said softly, simply: "Oh."

Rose had felt so damn mature.

She drank until the drips from her wine bottle looked like the deepest, darkest blood, and they fell as slow-motion blossoms in her glass...

She doesn't remember much about that night, but she does remember the way that Kanaya's lips felt, and her slender hands bracing her legs. She remembers a feeling something like hunger, and something like want, and something like warmth, sweet, hitting her hard in the pit of her stomach. She remembers asking Kanaya in the blinding pitch-darkness, what it felt like to breathe without trying.

* * *

The third dress she received was made of a heavy silk of a cloudy purple color. The velvet lining shocked her skin, and she looked like a queen.

_I could get lost in this dress_, she thought. _I could run away and never return. _The raiment was cut in the back so she could see her spine if she craned; could see her veins.

She turned away from herself.

That night, she hid in her closet, still wearing that dress, and covered her eyes with one hand as she downed bottle after bottle of oversweet Kahlua. She hated the way the sugar weighed down her tongue and stuck in her throat. She stared upwards at nothing and held her breath, over and over.

The next thing she knew, she was leaning naked over the toilet, her dress crumpled and unzipped around her. She felt Kanaya's cool hand on her back, and heard soft whispers, but all she could see was her own sickness, blurred with alcohol and tears.

* * *

Now, she looks in the mirror like a ghost. _Tell me what you see in me, Kanaya... Do you still love me like you did before?_

She notices how her hair is limp, her eyes misted. She notices that her skin is flushed and that her clavicles stick out. She remembers that she hadn't eaten in the past couple days; the vodka must have made her forgetful again.

This dress is the color of pale fog. It is asphyxiatingly tight in a way that makes the bone-buttons in her back crush something deep inside her. The lace, however, is mockingly gentle, lapping around her knees and shoulders like butterfly kisses.

Rose looks and does not recognize the girl in the mirror.

She sighs again and reaches for her flask, but her girlfriend quickly takes it from her and puts it to her own lips. She takes a swallowful into her mouth, and then kisses Rose Lalonde rather unchastely and rather hard. Her mouth seems to search for something in the other girl's. It has an urgency in it, a desperate tug. _Come back to me,_ it seems to plead, but Rose keeps her eyes half-open.

_Tell me what you see in me._

The vodka tastes like emptiness; like nothing.

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**A polite reminder that reviews are infinitely more satisfying than favorites.**


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